


The Lamb Marked For Slaughter

by RAAMIsABeast



Series: The Lamb Marked For Slaughter (AU?) [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bendy has a tail, Blood and Injury, Coercion, Crazy Sammy, Crying, Dark, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Morality, Evil Bendy, Flashbacks, Follows some events, Forced Relationship, Graphic Depictions Of Illness - PTSD, Graphic Description, Henry has a son, Henry's nightmares have more sense than he does, Hide and Seek, Humiliation, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Manipulation, Mental Coercion, Multi, My god these tags, Nightmare foreshadowing, Obsession, Original Character-centric, Pain, Panic, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sammy, Protectiveness, Sammy lives, Threats of Violence, Triggers, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, What Have I Done, a lot of swearing, demonic rituals, forced relationships - Freeform, keys have been found
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-11-29 22:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAAMIsABeast/pseuds/RAAMIsABeast
Summary: The summer holidays started it. The summer holidays brought a lamb and marked them for slaughter. No lamb was killed that summer.As lambs do, it grew into a sheep, perfect for the harvest. A harvest one wants to make last, for the voice is wool and the beating heart a drug.***RATING MAY CHANGE TO EXPLICIT***





	1. Joey

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING
> 
> This story portrays violence against children, PTSD, violence against teenagers, mental health issues, graphic violence and threats, and a load of swearing.
> 
> I'm going balls to the walls with this one.
> 
> Trigger warnings.
> 
> Read at your own risk.

Watching through the head mirror of his Ford, midnight black like all the others, the man smiled affectionately at the excited seven year old in the back of the car. It was the summer holidays. Usually he didn't go to work during the holidays, using the weeks they had to spend frolicking around wherever it was appropriate.

Last summer, they had appeared at the beach dressed ready for a day out, child's hand willingly in his left and bag of nessecary items for the beach captured by his right. That day had been full of laughs and mischief. A downer was put on that day near the end... But let's not ruin a good memory with insensitive bastards.

A small tap at his arm, a gentle little pressure for a short second, brought the man to pay as much attention as was safe to relinquish from the road to the child.

"Hm? What is it?"

He asked, ears listening for the happy child to voice what they had demanded he pay attention for. Shuffling whispered into his ear, proceeded by a small, nervous question.

"Will Joey be there?"

Ah. Joey. His boss and good friend. That was what had the small male in a twist of anxiety. Joey was a rough-edged, intense and driven young man, not sparing young children from his perfectionist - almost to the point he should have been born a house wife - ideals. Often, he took part in a hissing, swearing fit (his favorite go to word being fucking), usually over another colleague of the driver's drinking in the studio again.

However, the father knew this personality reason was not the concern here, silently going through all he could pull from his mind's library on the person christened Joey Drew, best friend and business partner.

There wasn't anything the kid co-ooh.

It wasn't Joey being in attendance that day of work, it was if he was _absent_. This revelation crested above a wave of sense and crashing down with a reassuring smile and an affectionate pat of the small limb on his much larger one.

"Of course Joey will be there. When is he ever not?"

By the time the car pulled up into its designated parking spot, the smaller of its two passengers became a bundle of energy, nearly leaping from the car into their father's arms as soon as the door was moved out of their way.

The man chuckled, ruffling short, sandy brown hair as he locked the three cornered square with the afterthought of rotating circles up for the day. Although not something particularly wonderful to gaze upon, the unshapely machine was a wonderful addition to the small family. So much so that she had been given a name, Liquorice.

Creaking open to let through a taller, skinnier man than him, the front door deferred to sharp green eyes and black hair which brushed the top of each ear. A white shirt, easily white enough to become a cloud without failure, ironed to a shimmering perfection and tucked neatly and evenly within an equally impeccable set of black striped trousers, showcased the owner of Joey Drew Studios in all of his working glory.

"Morning Henry, Sidney,"

Gruff and with the edge of a blade, the voice bestowed upon them could belong to no interloper nor doppelganger for only Joey held such a way and tone of speaking that, if voices were an inanimate thing to be held, it would have no other competition in the field of mincing flesh, quite possibly even bone.

Sidney, Henry's only living family member besides a black and white cat, smiled widely and leant forward in the nest Henry had created to hold the outstretched hand offered by the other adult. You'd never catch him hugging someone in a public place.

Blue eyes met with green during that formal, physical greeting as Sidney replied to the verbal one too with all of the grace Joey had been the teacher of.

"Mornin' Joey,"

" _Morning_."

"Morning, Mr Drew,"

Settled where the kid was, he wasn't eye level with Joey but right now Henry had darkened emerald staring through all barricades and into his soul.

"I swear to _fucking_ God, Henry. You will not let your much more dignified son speak like a fucking workless, rabid fool."

 _Here we go_ , he thought in the back of his mind. _Off he goes on a round of cursing everything 'impure' or 'useless'..._

Already, Henry had deployed a shell upon the studio, sighing and patiently waiting for the torrent of advice ("Always make sure to practice the proper way to speak with Sidney, Henry."), strings of cursing ("For fuck's sake, why in the fucking hell would you let a fucking bastard prick to go anywhere within three fucking miles of your son?"), and, the best bit in his opinion, the cool down.

"Right. Do you get what I'm saying, Henry, or do I have to spell it out for you?"

Not wanting another tornado of verbal battering, Henry nodded, supplying an answer when just the nod wouldn't be enough. So, must have caught Wally before this then. But, already? It wasn't even ten in the morning yet.

"I understand exactly what you're - you are - saying, Joey."

Sparkling gems shrunk as the jacketless man narrowed his eyes at Henry.

"It is you. Is it not?"

"Maybe."

"Urg. Clean up your act, find somewhere for Sidney and get to work."

With that, he spun around on unblemished and polished loafers before striding away.

 


	2. Introductions

After giving the intimidating wraith time to dissipate into the studio, Sidney walked close to his father's legs, nearly tripping the slightly portly gentleman up more than once. Dark blue glanced down to a small, brushed and tame mop of sandy brown hair orbiting his left leg with a single and uncomplicated intent. Remain near his father until he was convinced to latch onto someone else.

Right now, striding with curbed steps so the small child could stay to his left, Henry wished Wally hadn't put a damper upon Joey's mood. If the perfectionist had been in a much better mood, the introduction of the others here would go along much smoother than it was bound too now.

Some of the people didn't bother him for they would have no trouble with becoming accustomed with a temporary figure bunking with them for a few weeks.

And then there was Norman and Wally.

Norman, the man whose job was the care and instruction of the band, disliked 'ankle-biters', after an incident where he allegedly witnessed and felt his ankle transform from a vital body part to the worthless chew toy of a 'rabid, man eating' child.

And Wally... What redeeming qualities did he possess? Well... He somehow completed his janitorial work to a decent standard and wormed his way through the ten foot thick barrier Joey built between himself and outsiders to his select circle. Which included Henry, Sidney, Norman, Wally (how?), Susie and Sammy.

Speaking of the Music Director, hidden away in his room again, spread across his desk with various papers holding whatever information he needed, out of sight and best to be saved for last. He was the furthest away anyway.

"Mornin' Henry,"

Wally intoned solemnly, totally missing the child next to the regular occupant of this structure. Judging from the bedraggled expression printed on the man's face, Joey's quick temper blew up into a table-flipping wildfire again.

"Watch yourself Wally. If Joey or Sammy catch you slacking..."

The older man's face went from an average looking face to the sourest grimace in history when Sammy was mentioned. Being common knowledge, the war between Sammy and Wally was often the reason Sammy remained in his office and Wally begged for everyone to keep the missing keys a secret. Even with all of this publicity however, no one had even an inkling of how it had started or when the older man had begun to feel intimidated by his junior.

"Please don' mention him in fron' o' me... Who's this?"

Glimmering brown eyes trailed down to where Henry had an attachment, a slight smile ripening his shaved face. Sidney shifted behind Henry, one of the shyest children within the city. But, when he became comfortable with people, he was one of the most confident well behaved as well. Many thanks to Joey for that particular set of lessons.

"This is my son, Sidney. Sidney, this is the janitor, Wally."

Short and sweet, an ample introduction as Sidney usually remembered something of a person to be able to identify them, even if it wasn't their name. He would most likely remember the accent, seeing as Wally's was a Brooklyn one in origin.

"Hey, Sid'ey."

"... Hello, Mr Wally."

This formal answer tickled a good natured chuckle from the other man, who then gently corrected Sidney to just call him Wally.

Henry held his son's hand, legs clicking into first gear. However, before his brain applied pressure to the accelerator, Wally refused the clear passage needed.

"Watch yaself aroun' Sammy, both o' ya. He's been givin' me tha creeps recen'ly..."

"Why?"

"B-"

"You are  _not_ slacking when there is another burst in the pipes, Wally."

Relief filled Henry's mind, for the owner had just saved him from another of Wally's demonic possession conspiracies centred around the Music Director. He was just a bit off, that's all. Wally was just a paranoid older man... Right?

Sighing at becoming a doubter himself, the man just reassured a shaken Sidney that nothing was wrong with Sammy and that it was just Wally having a rampant imagination.

\---

As imagined, Norman barely veiled his dislike of children, even when the small child took a liking to him (somehow) and even wanted to sit with him to listen to the band perform. Eventually, the band played one song in exchange for the child leaving to they could work on the next one.

And now, after meeting Susie and nearly being adopted by the woman because of his cuteness, they were stood outside of the office of Sammy Lawrence. Inside, he could be heard humming along to a song, the scratching of his trusty pen grating on Henry's pencil-loving hands.

Before speaking, Henry checked the area to make sure Joey wouldn't hear him abbreviate his words.

"Sammy? You aren't too busy are you?"

There was few seconds of silence before the door opened, Sammy calmly settled in the open doorway. Black hair - even darker than Joey's, which made Henry pretty sure Joey did something to his hair as Sammy exhibited natural black hair, shine and all - was mostly styled back, apart from some strands on the left side of his forehead, the bangs dangling across the top of his eyebrow and dancing with each other with each movement which jostled them.

"Not really. I have very little to finish right now."

Extremely luscious blue, almost grey, eyes watched Henry before they flickered down to the moving bump beside him.

Sammy's heart seemed to skip a beat as his pupils dilated almost imperceptibly.

' _Such a little lamb is rare, my Lord. Such a lamb is worthy of you_.'


	3. Lamb

Settled in his wooden chair, swinging unsafely on the back right leg of it while in deep thought, muddling through the discovery he had been the benefiter of, Sammy raged. Courtesy of Henry. Because of Henry. Unfortunately.

Had the little lamb been Wally's or Susie's, there would be nothing emotional to connect him to the lamb and so it would have been so much easier than it was. But, his little lamb was Henry's little lamb. Sidney.

Sweet, rare, out of bounds, Sidney.

It just wasn't right! Why did he have to like Henry? Why did that lamb have to be so _right_? Why-

' _Calm down. Wally is already suspicious of my antics after working hours_ ,' his undying loyalty to keeping his Lord happy and full and content with his service eased the rising aggression within his body, released the coiling tension and untied the knot.

Softly humming a tune to himself, he removed his knees from their bracing position upon the edge of the stable desk and introduced the lumber to his protected feet.

Pulling a large folder from one of his drawers, the Music Director began his task of creating the songs for the next project. One this was done, he would see if he could find that lamb again. Even if it would grow to be a sheep, alive and safe. There was always more to a child than the surface, after all.

This work entranced Sammy into a cycle of humming the same tune, the same thought processes and the same personally made lines to rest the notes and cues upon.

A small knock resounding around the room from his door had the man standing up instinctually, tensing as he listened for the damning voice of Henry to float through.

"Erm. Mr Lawrence. Are you busy?"

That was not Henry but it was who Sammy meant to leave his office and track down with the single, innocent intent of learning more about him.

Striding calmly - he couldn't betray their infinitesimal understanding of his true self now could he? - to the locked door which granted one access to his office, he pulled the rectangle towards him, standing in its place.

Gazing down into small, naive and _delectably_ innocent eyes filled with a blue darker than his own, a tingling wriggled down his spine as Sammy forcefully pushed his occupation to one side in favour of admiring the exotic little lamb. His eyes were akin to the gemstone formed from aluminium oxide, sapphire, and his styled hair was a mixture of wet and dry sand. The two different shades of brown had no pattern nor sense of pattern; even this seemingly imperfect collection of rebellious natural colours did nothing to sway the man drinking in the boy's entire appearance.

"Mr Lawrence?..."

Soft, so soft. Speak again, little soft lamb. Bestow upon the corrupted being of this disgusting wretch your angelic voice and wish for his redemption. Or his downfall.

"I am not busy, Sidney. Do you not have an entertainer, however?"

 _'Say no, little lamb. Let me be your entertainment for this fine day_ ,' Sammy purred in his mind, feeding from the child's plump cheeks and undefined chin, a small nose and then the thin, pale red lips, etched a faded blood red, an old scar on the unscarred face. A splattered clump of freckles spread across the bridge of the nose, trailing along the cheekbones and above moving lips.

And then there was his voice, quiet, gentle, musical and with a child's higher tone but the man could almost hear the adult version of this talk with more confidence, even approval.

"No, Mr Lawrence. I do not have an entertainer. My dad is working and I snuck off. I can not find Joey either though..."

So lost. So confused. Perfect.

"Come in, Sidney. I am sure I will find something to your liking to do."

Shifting to be in line with his door, the man's seeing eyes landed upon the currently unused projector with two sets of reels and a bulb lit itself in his head above the thought of an idea.

"Would you like to watch Bendy in Little Devil Darlin'?"

"Oh yes please, Mr Lawrence!"

His heart skipped along a few beats before pumping a rush of endorphins and a silken feeling warmed up his neutral mentality and blanketing him in...

No. Sammy had no time for such a weak show. Instead, he could harbour and answer the evil plan curled in his storage. The tightly packed mental package twitched at the prodding consideration. Soon, so soon, rest a little longer for the lamb was close.

Watching the child settle in the partially hidden corner and lay his chin on his little forearms, at ease with the stalking beast flicking on its illusion of play. A distraction. A trap. A work of art made for the happiness of children destined to become a juxtaposition of its original reason.

Pleased with warping the attention of Sidney, the Music Director dined upon the image of his little lamb relaxing like his Lord did, dropping all guards and baring everything to perception and corruption.

Under his silent breath, Sammy purred praise to his Lord and the tender, little, naive, _delectable_ , lamb he wished to absolutely wreck and destroy.

"My Saviour, My Lord. I would give to you this tender lamb but I have an obstacle. And so I ask for your mercy and a different sheep to sate your beautiful urges."

_**"What a tender little lamb."** _

 


	4. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a load of art pertaining to this story.  
> I was thinking of creating a DA account to post and share it with you all.  
> Tell me what you think. :)

"My Lord... If h-"

**_"I am passing by. Joey is coming this way with the intention of talking to you. Hide the lamb."_ **

Nodding to show his Lord that Sammy would do as asked, he shivered as his Lord brushed past, sinking into the shadows behind the man.

Moving quietly - time to hide, little lamb - the human expertly adhered cut out figures in need of painting to the child's proximity. Just one last time, he leaned forward to consume the sight of mismatched hair tamed by a father's touch, the shallow, relaxed breaths rocking his body against the counter and the draping clothes covering the boy from hungry, unstable eyes.

Only a few seconds though, retreating to his desk and creating the illusion that he was working and not staring at something off limits. Fuck you Henry.

Joey Drew silently patted the floor with his shining loafers, purposefully striding towards the office near the back. This was the only place where Sidney could be. He was not with Norman, Susie, Henry, himself or Wally. So, if he was not with them, he _had_ to be with Sammy.

Sammy. Sammy Lawrence. He needed to hide his tracks much better for Wally was only getting more insistent, demanding Joey sack Sammy and replace him. To Wally, Sammy was just a Music Director, they could get another. Oh, but Sammy was much, _much_ more than that. He just needed to hide it.

As expected, the undecorated wooden door in the corner alcove was closed, but not locked. The walls hid what was within the room, but the sound of the small projector in there and Little Devil Darlin' quietly playing pulled a sigh from the owner's throat. Again, with the episodes.

Knocking three times, taking a second to admire the crisp sound of rapping against the wood, Joey's ears became witness to the shuffling of a chair quietly forced to go back before light steps walked to the door. Sammy was forgoing his shoes in his office again. It was his office, however, so Joey could not complain.

A soft bump, and then another, before the doorway dilated to reveal the nerves which moved it. His ironed, pale cream overalls hung up to his waist and a black polo shirt took charge of his torso. The sleeves curled up at his wrists, buttoned with a black button and neatly folded, an entrance for his hands to extend from. Right now, one was resting on the door handle while the other slipped into his front pocket.

"Sammy, I need a straight answer. Do you know where Sidney is? Henry is getting worried for him."

"He is asleep in here."

"Alright. Keep an eye on him after the meeting, will you?"

"Of course, Joey."

Shoed feet - the bumps must have been Sammy slipping into his shoes - stepped out into the alcove, the door pulled to close behind him. Joey had to tilt his head up a little to look at Sammy in the face. Sammy had his head angled to look Joey in the eye.

The silence was tense for a few moments, Joey's shirt skimming past the opposite coloured shirt. For those few moments, it seemed as of Yin and Yang had been personified by those articles of clothing.

And then it snapped with the crack of a loafer leading its wearer from the close contact, grimacing at the near touch. Quietly tucking back in his escaping shirt, Joey released the breath he'd held hostage.

One wouldn't think that Joey Drew, intimidating for his temper and nearly unrealistic expectations, could harbour a feeling of helplessness when being scrutinized by someone he had authority over. But... That nagging feeling that Sammy was a bit too suitable swept over him every time they got close.

Joey felt at the younger man's mercy, under his thumb, _owned_ by Sammy Lawrence.

\---

Sidney waited a few seconds before sneaking over to the door and sliding his small body through a crack he created. The two adults were walking a little bit ahead and so the child was as soft as he could be, following them down the corridors and turns.

What was this meeting? Why was his dad looking for him? Why did Mr Lawrence tell a lie to Mr Drew?

Sneaking behind the two adults like this made the child believe he could do it everyday and never get c-

"Sidney! There you are! You don't-"

Mr Drew spun around on his heel and cleared his throat.

"You do not know how worried I was."

Sidney smiled sheepishly at his dad, wrangling his hands together as Henry crouched down and embraced Sidney.

"Please do not run off without telling me again."

Waiting until he could gaze into his father's deep, sea blue eyes, Sidney glanced over his shoulder at Mr Drew and Mr Lawrence. Mr Drew approached, a thoughtful expression smoothing out his sharp cheek bones and curving his line of hair above his eyes.

"Henry, do you think you can handle Sidney joining this meeting?"

His dad's head shot up, eyes wide in shock.

"Joey... You mean it? But not even Wal-"

"I do not want him becoming even more crazy and I do not trust him with Sidney."

"You only trust him to be predictable and put you in a grouchy mood."

Joey grinned good naturedly.

"Oh Henry. You know that is my default state. Norman's default state is a resting bitch face, as we all know."

"What is this meeting, dad?"

When the dad watched his son, he knew he couldn't deny him of this wonderful opportunity.

"Come and see, Sidney."


	5. Bendy

Being a curious little child, Sidney enthusiastically agreed, following Joey and Sammy down the halls while holding Henry's hand, small bundle of excitement and nervousness. Henry understood why.

This meeting was no normal meeting, and so the man was skeptical as to whether Sidney would stand tall in the face of it, for the bravery of this child would prevail.

\---

After double checking the position of Sidney, in the corner he was told to become a part of, the man finally relaxed. By disappearing, the kid pressed the accelerator pedal to a manic search and rapidly pumping heart. Even just a note would have done wonders. Absolute wonders. But now his son wasn't far, and he could relax.

Candles were lit one by one, a match bearing a small flame with which to spark new life on the sticks of wax encasing a flammable piece of string. Each white candle was balanced on a polished candle holder to block the wax from completing contact with the floor and handing Wally something else to clean up to a somehow decent standard.

"Right. Are we all ready?"

Susie, Norman, Henry, Sammy and Sidney all answered yes to the inquiry of Joey, who nodded and splattered some ink across a circle in the middle of the room. From five points an equal distance away from each other - Joey had constructed this and so Henry expected nothing less from the perfectionist - five thick lines formed a five pointed star within the circle. Five five five. I think you get the point.

And for each impeccable point, one of the employees of Joey Drew Studios was located at the tip, still and straight. After a tilt of Joey's head, all five (that number again, Henry realised; he was yet to find out that the number five was his unlucky number) humans chanted the summoning charm to show off their best creation to the child.

From the marks, black ink bubbled through, popping and slurping and splashing as it defied gravity and built upwards. Every second, the ink transformed a blocky tower to melt into legs, arms, a whipping tail, a torso, the slightest sliver of visible neck and then a head.

When the ink halted in its movement, their creation shifted its head and widened the grin on its face. Black shoes tapped the wood as the rounded coal figure turned around to meet each person's gaze. Gloved hands curled and uncurled at the end of two murky arms, connecting to the torso at the shoulder area.

The wide grin was on a pale cream face surrounded by a thick black casing, curving up to inward pointing horns. There was no nose, but there were two C-shaped abysses for eyes, a point cut into the right hand side.

_**"Good morning, everyone."** _

Steady, low, fruity and modulated, the voice which floated from behind the moving teeth, splitting down an invisible crack through the middle, was articulated by inky vocal cords and a slimy, dark tongue. Both of which were hidden within their mouth.

"Good morning, Bendy."

Joey greeted, watching the gleaming white gloves fly upward to plump up and balance the snowy bowtie properly. The tall man's head had to manoeuvre itself until it was facing downward slightly to do this. Bendy's tail casually flicked back and forth, ending in a plume of black fur.

For what he is, you would expect a triangle or a fork. But, Bendy had fur, very soft fur. In certain lights, especially if damp or wet, the fur could appear a deep midnight blue.

Shifting on his feet again, Bendy gazed past the circle, black eyes locked onto the small child in the corner, who's sapphire eyes seemed entranced by Bendy and his entrance.

The cartoon character smiled encouragingly, walking towards Sidney without being intimidating to the shy boy, though Sidney did glance at his father while shyly shuffling on his feet and finding the floor planks very interesting.

He started when a gentle, glove-covered finger guided the boy's face up to unite the paths of their eyes into one.

_**"Hello, little child. What is your name?"** _

"S-Sidney, Mr Bendy..."

Pleasantly, Bendy chuckled and chucked the child under the chin like an adult would.

_**"Please, just call me Bendy, Sidney."** _

Embarrassed, he could only nod as a cute, light red blush tinged his freckled cheeks and brought out his sparkling eyes. For a few moments, the ink-born cartoon admired the natural beauty of the young human, fully understanding why the Music Director was enthralled.

_**"Who is your favorite character, Sidney?"** _

He asked out of the blue. The human child again became nervous, shifting from one tiny foot to the other. He could leave the corner if he wished for Bendy was stood to the side of the corner, leaving ample space for the kid to run.

However, Sidney did not run nor retreat to his father's side, exhibiting some courage even when his body committed the slightest of tremors.

 _ **'Such a brave little thing, are you not? It will be delightful when I break your spirit,'**_ he mentally noted down all the ways he could break this spirit. As the child gave his answer, Bendy never stopped his deciding.

"You are my favorite character, Bendy!"

A sweet, innocent smile followed that enthusiastic statement. Behind him, grey-blue eyes widened slightly as the thin lips curved at the end, a slight smirk.

Grinning at the small believer of his good side, Bendy pulled the child under his arm and ruffled his hair.

He knew how he intended to ruin Sidney forever.


	6. Dance

Dancing the routine of sanity, the cartoon entertained the lamb of the herd of sheep with the three tufts of fluffy fur upon the end of its tail, allowing small, curious hands to stroke the entire limb as the father kept an eye on it all from his corner desk. How he managed with the alcove for his office the demon would never know, nor understand why he remained there. Personally, he enjoyed suitable space to inhabit, and then some if he could.

"Could you dance, Bendy?"

The plump head tilted downwards, witnessing with a hidden bliss the deliciously hopeful expression surfacing on that innocent face with no quarrels or thoughts of being scrutinized and fed upon by a predator, a sinful being who only wanted to hear the little lamb bleat.

\---

Sketching out the next animated piece including Bendy and a wolf character – Bendy refused for his name to be said when he was not awake or in the real world. It made the wolf feel left out, isolated, abandoned. Unlike the demon, the wolf could not be summoned as easily and the ritual to bring him out to play needed to be done on the eve of the new moon and with Bendy leading the assembled group.

That was enough of missing toons right now, however. If Joey caught Henry slacking off, watching his little son ask his performer if he would dance for his pleasure. Smiling affectionately – how he loved being the father of the little one -, the man also felt something negative and threatening whisper to him and pluck his spine with icy fingers at the length of time Bendy remained stationary. Sidney too must have surely felt the tension sparking in the enclosed space for the kid shuffled nervously.

Luckily, Bendy widely grinned as he completed an expert spin on his heel, twice round and ending in a bow and flicking his tail towards the child encouragingly.

**_“Of course I could. Would you like that, Sidney?”_ **

“Oh yes please, Bendy!”

Softly laughing at the enthusiastic, excited, polite reply, he twisted three times before gliding on booted feet to the child and told him to go and wait for Bendy in the room nearby. It was big enough for the cartoon demon to dance without hitting anything and the table there was a great place to settle the child without having to wonder over if he could see or not. It was the correct height for an unblocked view of the ‘stage’.

The child ran off to the specified room with excited squeals as the cause of that happiness faced Henry with a curious tilt of his head.

_**"Is Sidney one who likes a dance?"** _

Henry was silent for a minute before the question sank in and shock rippled across his face.

"Excuse me?"

**_"Does Sidney like to dance?"_ **

"Er... Yea, why?"

**_"Why do you think?"_ **

Bendy wouldn't. He wouldn't dance _with_ someone, would he? Henry had never seen the cartoon willingly dance of his own accord with someone and seeing this rare sight would be something to not be missed. If only he could watch this show but the man doubted Joey would allow the absence for such a trivial thing such as a dance.

Coming back around from his shocked stupor only to find said man's piercing orbs narrowed at Henry's halted working. Quick to jump the gun before Joey did it for him, the animator blurted out that Bendy was most likely twirling a small child around a little way from the entrance.

At first, his outburst was met with a skeptical eyebrow and a disbelieving snort. Though, after abandoning Henry to investigate the quiet music echoing from the entrance room, Joey returned with surprised approval.

"Did you put him up to it?"

"What, no! He agreed after Sidney asked if Bendy could dance."

"I like your kid, Henry. He has spirit and a knack for working on the cold hearts of men."

"Does that include yours, Joey?"

The playful but scolding glare sent his way nearly destroyed the self-control of the father, which broke as soon as the kill switch disappeared from ear shot.

"Joey, wrapped around the pinky of a child."

He chuckled to himself, attention dripping into expertly rubbing light sketches onto the blank piece in front of him for a darker, final outline later on. A figure passed the desk without attracting any attention, carrying an empty bucket near their leg.

Long legs carried the figure down the hallways with muffled steps, pausing when the scene of Bendy and Sidney unfolded from the brown curtain of the wall.

Being the smaller of the two dancers, the child's size set the pace for which they twirled to the rhythm of the playing song. However, he also became tired sooner than his taller partner, still wanting to dance but lacking the nessecary energy to do what he wished.

_**"Tired already?"** _

"I do not get to dance often. Please, dance still with me?"

_**"I believe I can do something about this."** _

Ebony eyes glanced slyly in the direction of the silent audience, gloved hands wrapping around the waist of the child as gray eyes flicked down to take in the movement. Sidney squeaked in surprise, tiny hands grasping Bendy's shoulders in shock and for stability.

_**"Too soon, Sidney?"** _

"It just scared me, Bendy..."

The cartoon smiled, a mixture of mock caring and a dark, sinful intent read only by the watching wretch, broken, hungry, vengeful and loyal to only his dark Lord.


	7. Sacrifice

Rocking them both in a calming way, the demon wasn't surprised when the boy slipped into sleep, his left shoulder transforming into a pillow for him to rest his head upon. Soon, this little sleeper would be returning to his father's safe cradle and out of the beams of inky limbs holding his limp body.

But, while this chance presented itself to him so innocently, he kept the gentle swaying on repeat to make sure little Sidney remained under his charm, and thus still. With how close the child was, his heartbeat peacefully thumped a living record for the cartoon to listen to.

So calm. So small. So trusting.

"My Lord? Henry is getting his coat and then he will be coming for the lamb."

**_"Sammy."_ **

"Yes, My Lord?"

**_"For now, just refer to Sidney by his name and me by mine. We do not want to be discovered now, do we? I will take you up on the offer of another sheep as well, Sammy. See that I have my meal ready for midnight."_ **

Bowing his head in understanding, the human strode his way along a well trodden path, leaving his Lord's presence to fulfil his request.

Alone once again, Bendy stroked the little head he was in charge of, feeling the soft fur all humans possessed on their heads dribble through his gloved fingers. Even this slight brush fanned the itch to touch with his bare, clawed hands and draw blood. Sweet, crimson blood, an essence dripping from an eclipse in the purity of this innocent being.

An essence this demon wished to drink up with a starved devotion to worshipping such fresh blood. But, not now. He could not have Henry become suspicious now, could he?

Speaking of the animator only seemed to summon him, for that off chance thought breathed life into the man and popped him into the room with his waistcoat buttoned up around his torso and his work bag hanging from a shoulder.

"You got him to sleep. That is great, Bendy. Thank you."

**_"You are welcome, Henry. He is a sweet little thing, is he not?"_ **

"Very sweet. Thank you for looking after him, Bendy. You did not have to."

**_"It was a pleasure. You should bring Sidney tomorrow. His company is refreshing."_ **

**_'In more ways than one, oblivious father of Sidney,'_** the demon laughed in his mental landscape, an evil, spine-chilling voice purring those words as it salivated dark desires and a vicious cycle without mercy. Such a far cry from his care free voice, was his true sound, that the humans would surely die from cardiac arrest upon hearing it.

Both had the deepness in common and no more will be spoken of on this matter for the disruptive man was intoning words again.

"I will be on my way then. May I have my son?"

**_"Of course. You did not believe I would sacrifice him to myself, did you?"_ **

Henry chuckled, accepting the offered child.

"Do I look like Wally?"

To play along with the human's pathetic but bond building games, the cartoon gave him a once over, humming.

**_"You do a bit. The belly, the short hair and the unusual habit of nail biting."_ **

"I thought that was our little secret, Bendy?"

Smirking playfully, the demon pretended to think over that statement.

_**"It must be because Joey does not know."** _

A grateful smile graced the human's face and it was that instant where the demon latched onto how he would gain access to Sidney. Alone. Just the two of them, and his loyal Sammy conducting the ritual. Perfection.

\---

Hanging near a busy pub soon allowed the harvester to reap what he was due. As with all drunken men fighting in an alley, there was always the chance to steal away the winner after both contestants pass out.

A pair of aggressive stragglers from a larger herd soon turned their intoxicated frustration upon each other, unsuitable fists flying in the general direction of the other man. Neither spared much attention to their surroundings, except to grapple with grimy objects to bat stupidly with, not realizing they were carefully being herded to a pen.

"I can't believe you fucking got us fucking lost you piece of shit!"

"You fucking bastard! You were fucking in front of me you arsehole!"

Such foul mouths. Definitely not higher class men, for sure. Their dishevelled and patchy night wear further gave away their status on society but they were not hunted based upon how greedy they were.

Being working class, both men were strong, if albeit with less muscle than their hunter, and would make the perfect sheep for a perfect Lord.

But which one would it be?

The shorter, more aggressive one or the taller, more verbal one?

Maybe both. That way, there were two for his Lord to decide from. That way, he would be rewarded for his efforts with the prize of draining one of their impure lives with his freeing blade. That way, his rising bloodlust would be fed for a little while longer. Just that little time would conduct wonders for his performance at work.

Glancing around the shrouded pit he had cornered the blundering pair, gray eyes clasped sights with a sturdy metal pipe, most likely ripped from the wall during a paid and disgusting tryst.

Pale hands curled around the metal tube, testing the weight with a simple smack to the back of the taller - he still had some inches upon him however - man's head, knocking him out cleanly and quickly.

"Hey, hey! Who the fuck are you, freakshow?"

A hidden grin stretched pleasantly with sadistic pleasure.

"I am Sammy Lawrence, your Shepherd."

 


	8. Fake...?

Carl groaned, first conscious moments pounded by his hangover and blossoming throbs originating from the back of his head. What had happened? He and Jack were settling their differences down an alleyway before it went black. Did Jack have a friend?

As he opened his eyes, his eyelashes brushed against something wrapped tight around his eye region, blanketing his vision in foreboding black.

Whipping his head left and right did nothing to dislodge the cloth, and Carl couldn't use his hands. Braided ropes, strong and squeezing, connected his wrists together behind his back, forcing the man against an unforgiving chair.

What did Jack plan to do to hi-

"I see one of you has awoken. No, you both now. Exactly as I had predicted, my sheep."

Ominous words were formed by a smooth, calming voice with the slightest pinch of throatiness or a rasp, soothing both struggling sheep.

"Where are we?"

Good. Nice and calm. However, this did not mean he would answer them. Only good sheep received answers from their Shepherd.

"This is none of your concern."

"I think it is you cra-ARG!!"

How he wished the smaller lamb could gaze upon the punishment for arguing with their Shepherd but the blind fold tactic spiked their fear.

Grown men, impure by default, reduced to snivelling, disobedient boys in need of a good whipping and even more impure.

After the punishment, a simple slap across the face with his hand, the taller human remained silent, bared skin flushing red from the harsh contact and humiliation.

"There we are. Fitting for My Lord."

Tightening the bonds tying the sacrificial sheep down, he backed off to admire his work and await his Lord's arrival. After all, his Lord had to bury his nightly activities from the prying, huge nose of the wolf.

\---

"It's time ta sleep, Bendy."

Hearing the gruff voice of his best friend settled the demon as he changed his gloves for a clean pair and straightened his bowtie. Dancing with the boy had scuffed his shoes too, so he took each one off to polish each smudged boot into a fine finish.

"Bendy?"

**_"I will be late, Boris. Please go to sleep because I have to polish my boots."_ **

"Have ya been dancin' again? Withou' ya pal too."

**_"I have a new dance partner. A human boy called Sidney."_ **

"Ain't that who Henry talks abou'?"

He hummed, finishing with one boot and swapping them as the aroma of a high class polish swirled around his working hands and wafting into his mouth, where his tongue tasted the air like a snake.

Sharp and acrid, the shoe polish was not his favourite odorous object to taste upon his appendage, and so he was quick to completely shine his boots and wear them.

Now, to go where Bendy was due to show up.

\---

Sammy flicked some ink from the wooden beams with the tip of his blade, bare foot swinging underneath the beam he was sat on.

Carl could only name the masked person - what sick fuck wore a child's cartoon character on their face? - because Jack had spat his name as soon as their blind folds had been removed.

And how did a skinny-ish middle class man take down two working class men single handedly? Oh, yes. Alcohol and surprise attacks.

"Why are we here?"

Asking where they were did nothing. So, maybe a different question would work?

No. No it did not.

Again, the man just ignored them, again.

"Hey, why are we here?"

**_"To die."_ **

That was not the voice of their kidnapper. Slithering through the space to strike with deadly fangs pumping fear around his body, his spine froze as the low, rumbling, hissing sound etched itself inside his brain.

Sammy bounced with the energy of a child from his perch, landing softly on his soles and bowing deeply at the waist to the shadowed figure stood in the doorway. Incoming light made it hard to distinguish any vital facial information to discover who they were.

**_"Rise, My Prophet."_ **

"My Lord. Today you have a choice of your sheep."

**_"I can taste alcohol, My Prophet."_ **

The figure hissed at the masked man, who bowed his head to the left.

"I know, My Lord. However, I thought a little spice to your meal this night would help sate your beautiful urges."

Weirdly shaped head tilting to the side, the person in the shadows hummed long and low before they stepped forward with a banging boot. Out of the path of the light outside and into the vision of the two men.

Shock coursed through their veins, also with a healthy dose of disbelief.

"Bendy?!"

"Don't be stupid, Carl! It's just a man in a costume!"

**_"Gentlemen, gentlemen. It is alright to believe or disbelieve. However, I am Bendy and tonight you are my sheep."_ **

A tail whipped around excitedly behind the man wearing a costume, before it slowly trailed across the floor, fur fluffing up into three twisted drops of black. The appendage suddenly flicked at Carl.

_**"Give me a drop. I will decide which one tastes the most satisfactory."** _

Light and silent, the overalls fluttered at his ankles as he came towards Carl with his shimmering blade at the ready.

"No, no, no, no!"

He was _not_ going to die here! He was not!

Kissing his wrist, the razor sharp dagger ripped up his inner forearm, allowing his blood to soak his patchy shirt. Having collected a sample, the masked fiend retreated to the dressed up person's side and offered the bloody blade.

A black tongue slipped from parted teeth to lick the dagger like a lollypop.

_**"We have much to do, My Prophet. Are you ready?"** _

"As always, My Lord."

 


	9. Heart

Gazing upon his Lord as he devoured his chosen sheep, the follower sharpened the edges of his dagger in time with each squelch of freshly killed mutton slushing down a contracting throat.

Having removed both gloves and boots to keep them pure and away from the impurity his Lord consumed with his inky purity, no speck of white flickered as hands ripped into a convulsing chest. He was disappointed that most of his bright candles were dim from the shadows coursing through the room. Now he could not take in the beauty of his Lord and his Lord's destruction. His war against misguided herds of _'God'._

Glancing up from his work, the follower grinned behind his mask. On the floor beside his flowing Lord, a frantic twitching lump of bleeding muscle tried to escape the overbearing demon destroying its vessel. Its purpose.

It didn't get far, impaled on the end of one of his Lord's dangerous spines at the tip of his perfect tail. A hand casually waved in the general direction of the other sacrifice.

**_"My Prophet, deliver to me his heart upon the silver platter of your hand."_ **

"Of course, My Lord."

His quiet footsteps were the gongs to the sacrificial dissection of his victim. Closer and closer he came, the sheep's squirming rocked the chair they were on, whites of their panicked eyes flashing in the candlelit room. 

"No! N-no! I have a wife and kids! Please!"

A family. All the more _impure_. With permission, he would give his Lord precious, young lambs and the corrupt woman.

"They do not have you."

And with that last verbal jab at the pretty meat, Sammy fluttered ever closer. In one swoop, his dagger became a stake to the throat.

His Lord purred at his work as carmine liquid bubbled through gasping lips and flooded through the edges of the stab wound. 

**_"That is it, My Prophet. Bleed the impure fool for me to purify his wretched soul."_ **

"Yes, My Lord."

Soft tissue and muscles, the throat was cut down the middle as if it was just the air we breathe right now, reading about someone losing that right to breathe. However, as all bodies were, bones stood in his mission of fully revealing the steaming insides of this sheep to his waiting audience. 

For but a second, Sammy had the doubt that he could please his Lord this time, doubted the strength of his loyal blade, doubted his own strength in the face of such carnal power. 

_> >>_

_'A Prophet is his Lord's right hand man, Sammy. He will be stronger, faster, harder to kill. He will take whatever risks he has to in order to complete the tasks asked of him. Are you ready to accept your fate, Sammy Lawrence?'_

_'I am.'_

_'Hm. Then accept your fate, Prophet.'_

_> >>_

His initiation as his Lord's Prophet. His vows. His training. His past. All melted into one single, growing, mindless purpose, his purpose.

 _'No pathetically frail bone will reduce my professional output to my Lord,'_ Sammy growled, upper arms bulging with the needed energy to tear into the bony chest of the cooling mass. Rinding bones and wet bloodshed barked at the progressing knife as it ran the course perfectly. 

Down, down, down it sliced, leaving not even the groin complete. A last song of praise for the demon watching Sammy prepare the heart.

**_"Perfect, as always, My Prophet."_ **

Inside, Sammy smiled at his approval. _'Bested again by your overwhelming urges, are the sheep. Bestow upon them your pure needs and bestow upon me your eternal love for the pure few. Tell me, My Lord. Tell me who it is who stands in your way. Tell me and I will free your soul of these invisible bonds.'_

There was something which barricaded the demon from his true potential, something which dulled his vicious bite, something which Sammy wanted to remove for his Lord.

Enough introspection now. His Lord was awaiting the gift wrapped within the unwilling paper of ribcage. Slapping his blood stained hands on each side of the incision, the Prophet split them open like a nutcracker, reaching inside to shove away the lungs and grasp a hold of the shallow beating heart.

Lifting out the organ was a tedious process. If it was ripped by the broken bits of bone, his Lord would have no heart to eat. And that would not do at all.

The cartoon demon had placed himself on a shaded beam, watching the human stride with confidence towards where he was, dripping heart cupped in both hands and in front of him as some of the excess blood dribbled down his wrists to stain his sleeves vindictively. Some blood curled out from the twitching organ and down his fingers to the floor in uncoordinated waves of crimson.

"My Lord, the heart you desired."

Bowing so deeply for him, uncomfortably rising the heart towards his Lord, ignorant of his own needs in order to fully satisfy his Lord, Sammy was confused when the heart wasn't taken by inky hands and instead he was commanded to rise.

Straightening his body, the man tilted his head to the side. He flinched when a claw brushed his chin, the finger pulling his mask up and taking it off.

"My Lo-"

**_"It seems as if I can not touch this heart, My Prophet. You will have to feed me the morsel."_ **

Sammy nodded, lifting up his hands to plop the heart within the cavernous mouth lined with sharp points. As he pulled his limbs away, his Lord's tail flirted with his right sleeve before slipping under and worming upwards until it found what it was looking for.

**_"Good boy."_ **


	10. Keys

Waking up to a sweet little boy in bed next to him was expected by the father, smiling softly and glancing at the time.

6:25. He would remove himself from his bed soon, ready for another day at work. Henry hummed to himself as he affectionately cuddled his boy, thinking over if he should bother Sammy about babysitting again.

However, in the end, it was the cartoon who looked after his offspring until the end of his work day. Even better, Bendy had corralled the child into falling asleep, making it easier to leave the building as Sidney would surely have wanted to say goodbye to everyone there.

Last night, all the father desired was an early rest and a warm shower to relax his muscles. Bendy, with his powers of sleep, passed the man this opportunity when he relinquished the snoozing child back to his dad.

6:30. Time to awaken Sidney.

Gently rocking the boy by his tiny shoulder, he brought the child to the waking world just as sunlight crept into the bedroom through a crack between the two sheets of fabric draping in front of the window.

Each slice of finely handcrafted fabric was the canvas of cream leaves laid artistically upon a coal background. Chosen by mutual agreement, this pattern appeared wherever there was a window to cover up, polished curtain holders standing guard on either side.

Once, Henry had used a holder as something else but... That was in the past.

"Mhm... Dad?"

"Morning, Sidney. Mr Hands tells me it is time to get up."

"Is the Sun up?"

"The Sun is shining through the gap, look."

Picking up the sleepyhead, Henry revved his internal muscles to heat them up and bring his waking body upright. This jerky movement allowed his son to see and feel the slight bit of sunlight curling through the gap with the positive energy it compassionately gifted to each and every object upon the earth.

"I feel like a... A... Rep... Re... P..."

"Reptile."

"Thank you, dad."

Snuggling into his chest with his messy head above the man's heart, Sidney smiled, voicing each beat he heard with a giggle for the engine tickled his eardrum.

"Bendy has a fast heart, dad."

"He... Does. Yes. He does."

A cartoon had a physical heart? Internal organs? Those were not on the design... Could it be a side effect of becoming reality? Had to be.

\---

Meowing and nearly tripping up her owner, a black and white cat pounced forward from the sofa and ran to the kitchen, demanding for her morning tuna and belly rub.

Sidney tipped her breakfast into her bowl while his father poured some cereal and milk into two bowls, a big one and a small one. Both were a plain white. Neither of them were really into intricate and 'fashionable' designs. The kitty would most likely push them off the side as soon as she had the second of freedom anyway.

They ate, bowed to the feline's orders, bundled into Liquorice and flicked on the radio to tune into some music for the journey.

"You know, Dad. Bendy sings to songs much different to this."

"No, he doesn't. He sings songs like this."

"Only when you are there, he tells me."

\---

This time Wally was outside, rummaging through the bins urgently.

"Wally, what _are_ you doing?..."

Now he definitely had a scope on who was the crazy one in the studio.

"Henry! Oh Christ, ya scared me! I'm tryin' to find those bloody keys..."

"In the bins?"

"They could be anywhere n if Sammy finds out I've lost 'em, I'm outta here!"

"Alright. But don't come in stinking of the bins..."

"It's my day off today. I only came here to find the keys before Sammy finds 'em himself n kills me for losin' 'em again."

Sidney disappeared behind a bush, coming back with the missing keys stuffed into a beer bottle.

"Oh Wally..."

"Shit."

\---

Sending the janitor home with the bottle and the keys, Henry tracked down Joey to ask him if he wouldn't mind watching Sidney because Norman had just informed him that Sammy had conquered the projector room again.

Joey was not in his office, a neatly written note saying that he was making an ink run and to bring Bendy out as soon as was possible for Henry and Susie.

Great. An energy sapping, two person show. Sure, Bendy was not much trouble but it was hard enough recovering after all five of them had given life to the cartoon.

Two was just a nightmare and any work for today could go fuck itself. Henry would be sleeping away the day.

But... If Bendy was around, Henry could sleep in peace because the demon would take care of his son for him.

\---

**_"I see, Henry. You brought me here to babysit."_**

"Not... Exactly..."

_**"I do not mind. Sidney is a pleasure to look after."**_

"Oh, thank you Bendy. He should be in Sammy's office, watching Little Devil Darlin' again."

He sighed as the cartoon left the pentagram to take care of his son, barely making it back to his desk before he passed out.

\---

Joey had done as told. Good. Now, he could spend more time being taught about the little lamb awaiting his arrival within his Prophet's office.

Remembering his Prophet, he relived the sight of the ribcage being split open by the sheer loyalty he possessed for his Lord. Even now, the aroma of the handfed heart flamed a furnace of bliss throughout the demon's orthodox existence.

His only problem for his plan lay asleep within this building.


	11. Sleep

Settled in the corner with his little chin on his little arms, the child dropped all guards, much to the demon's delight. For now, he remained in the shadows near the door with his black eyes on the human as if he were the Grim Reaper himself stalking such a lowly being. However, the term 'lowly' never crossed his musings of the child, tail curling up in something akin to the uncomplicated human emotion known as contentment.

Sidney. Human Sidney. Sidney, son of Henry. A small lamb baring his very soul to the devious spirit so close to letting go of their facade, but not yet. **_'Not yet.'_**

Strike too soon upon the fruit and find it immature is a fool's path. Patience reaps the ripest of fruits to those willing to wait and nurture the seed of innocence and wilter the plant into your ideals.

But not yet.

Sidney's tiny jacket, neatly folded and resting upon the back of Sammy's chair, blasted the cartoon with sweet calmness as he drank in the scent misting over the fabric. On his inky knees, supported by the wooden seat, Bendy picked up the jacket and silently breathed in Sidney, tasting his young scent at the same time.

Behind the flat teeth, a tongue writhed with the urge to slip out and lick the fabric in his hands as if it was the skin of the human exposed for him to explore at his leisure. But it was not and so he did not give in, regaining composure and replacing the jacket where it was. One last deep breath and he left the chair to glide over to the relaxed boy.

_**"I see you have made yourself at home already."** _

A jump, a gasp of surprise and Bendy swirled his tongue in his mouth to distract himself from the sudden spin Sidney created to look at Bendy. Unfortunately, he misjudged his movement and would have become one with the floor if not for the gloved hand grasping a hold of the thin arm securely.

_**"Watch yourself, buddy. We do not want you hurt now, do we?"** _

Sheepishly blushing and removing his blue eyes from the sight of the other, the boy revolved his head half a right angle each way twice.

"No, we do not. Is Mr Lawrence coming back soon?"

Oh, how easy it was to pretend to be human. Simply changing his face and his body language feigned mock hurt.

_**"Am I not good enough for your high standards, little Lord?"** _

Simply effortless to replicate their vocal twitches too.

Sidney giggled, a soft, fruitful sound ripened by his working chords.

Cute.

\---

Expecting his Lord in his office with the lamb was one thing. Having them curled up on a chair together asleep was a totally different thing.

Not wanting to disturb the sleeping beauties, the Music Director reduced his noise level by sitting and watching them. Working would produce scratching, rustling, humming. It would wake them and shatter the peaceful expression upon his Lord's face. No hidden meanings. No veiled sneers or snarls. Pure demon contentment.

Sammy must have slipped into his own sleep for he was jolted awake by a warm body resting on his leg and a head coming to lay on his right pec. The body made a sound, a soft breath of a yawn, air tickling his bicep through his polo shirt, releasing a shiver down the arm. Drooping his head to see what it was, the man furrowed his eyebrows as his Lord carefully covered Sidney with his jacket.

**_"Afternoon, Sammy. Seeing as you are in need of sleep, you can look after Sidney."_ **

"Yes, M-Bendy. I will."

A sharp nod followed from the cartoon before he pivoted on his heel, tail flicking through the space between them, booted feet noiselessly stepping towards the shadows beside his door. Inside his dark bubble, his Lord seemingly disappeared as a breath in the wind. He knew differently for ink can not dissolve into a gas but it can melt into a liquid.

Without the looming presence of his Lord or the possibility of that wretched friend who's luck not only bestowed a handsome child right into his hand but also to have a bond with HIM, the Director merely allowed himself to slip right back into the unknowing bliss of sleep. His Lord would require no more sheep for a few nights.

\---

Once again, sleep must have dulled his consciousness as the man was stirred by a limb grasping his shoulder and shaking him awake.

"What?"

He huffed, stretching and drawing back his eyelids to gaze at Sidney and Joey. Joey was jostling him and the child was still asleep, now carefully laid on Joey's arm.

"Are you meant to be watching him?"

"Yes."

"I do not think sleeping on the job is a good thing, Sammy."

"To be truthful, Joey, the job was sleeping on me."

Glaring, Joey sighed in frustration and promptly gave Sidney back. Green eyes met grey for a few seconds as an understanding zapped between them.

"I see. Let us hope you wake up before Henry and Sidney."

"I only need an hour more before I sleep no longer, Joey. Relax and do your job."

"I could say the same for you, Sammy."

Stalemate. Meeting each other's eyes for just a little bit longer, they decided to untangle their lines of sight in different ways.

Sammy's way was closing his eyes and slipping away into dream world.


	12. Dream

As he had told Joey, Sammy roused from sleep an hour later. The lamb still slept on, jacket slipping from his shoulders. Replacing the jacket back to its original position, he watched the child breathe for a few minutes before Norman swung into his room, not bothering to knock or announce his arrival in anyway which differed from slamming the door against the wall obnoxiously.

This rude and impromptu visit awoke Sidney, frightening the small child from his sleep, meaning the Music Director had to latch onto his arms to halt his near fall.

"Sammy! I s- Should I leave you two alone?"

Oh God. Bloody Norman and his unsatisfied sex life. Always bringing up wrongful ideas about two people. His main victims were Susie and Joey, especially when they were in the same room and alone, or talking. One day, Sammy would finally shut his trap.

"He is a child, Norman. And the same gender. Get a hold of yourself."

A reprimand. Norman's face soured even more, creasing up with anger.

"Temper, Norman. What do you want?"

"Two things. One, for you to treat me with some respe-"

"No."

"Fine. Two, I want the next song."

"Take them all. I have finished the songs for this episode."

The bald man stomped in, huffing under his breath about stupid songs for stupid kids made by a stupid Director. However, the man was just sore over losing the previous one and not becoming the Music Director himself. Losing the position to an animator.

Once the door had shut out the rest of the world again, Sidney shifted from his seat, yawning and stretching as the floor wordlessly greeted his shoed feet again.

"Why is Norman grumpy?"

"I borrowed his projector earlier. He never likes that because it means the entire band has to leave the room."

"Why did you not use yours?"

He collected all of his wayward slips of A4 paper, arranging them based on what the ink they had fed upon spoke of.

"I had a feeling you would be in here again today and so I left my projector free for you."

"Thank you, Mr Lawrence."

Polite. Joey must have been his teacher.

"Do you have any kids, Mr Lawrence?"

"No. I do not."

"Oh."

Disappointed, let down, the boy's shimmering smile drooped ever so slightly before it fluttered back into its original position.

"Bendy sang to me today. He also told me you can sing."

' _Why, My Lord? Why reveal to the lamb my tool to calm you down when you rage at the world we live in?'_ Mentally sighing, he had no other option other than to swallow this truth with a draught of acceptance and acknowledge the current elephant in the room.

"He may be telling the truth."

Not directly, of course. Directly addressing any issue was bound to blow it out of the water with more speed than the energetic and unholy incarnation of agony fired from the barrel of a gun.

"Can you confirm it?"

"No."

\---

Startling himself awake, Henry slapped his hand over his thundering heart as if setting up a barrier with which to coax the panicking organ back to its natural rhythm.

The man glanced around wildly and pinched himself until he could confidently say he was no longer under the influence of sleep.

Oh god. What was that dream?

No dream was like that, surely? Though, could that really be called a dream? Even bad dream was undermining the heart and gut wrenching contents of the mental movie.

Just alluding to the mental imagery released a spine chilling cascade of unwanted flashbacks and dulled his attention to his reality. So much so that Henry never would have noticed the black smudge rounding the corner and halting its passage beside his desk.

**_"Joey Drew Studios to Henry."_ **

Shocked back into existence by the sudden fruity greeting, Henry's attention snapped from the conspicuous knot in his desk's wood to the black and white face of a smiling Bendy. Without Sidney.

"Er. Bendy? Where's my son?"

**_"Sidney is with Sammy. He is alright. I promise. I came here to check up on you after summoning me with only two of you there. Susie is asleep still."_ **

The demon paused, the silence pregnant with the appraisal of Henry being awake.

**_"I must admit that I am surprised at your early rising, Henry. Pleasantly so, of course."_ **

"Thank you, Bendy... Erm... I don't exactly know what to say to that."

Henry glanced down at the work on his desk, partly done sketches and finished products alike, sighing in relief when none of them were creased or had been sweat upon.

**_"You do not look so good, Henry. Did you have a bad dream?"_ **

"You can say that. Urgh. I'm going to wash my face before Joey comes back."

Luck was not on the animator's side today for the entrance to the studio opened and Joey strode in, calling for Wally to help him unload the truck.

"Not more ink... Why can' he leave it alone?"

Stumbling past the small corner office for Henry, the janitor swigged the last of the whiskey in his hand, carelessly dropping the glass into Henry's desk side bin.

The man had half a mind to tell Wally to put it elsewhere but Henry didn't like to be confrontational and so just sighed, shook his head disapprovingly and returned to work.


	13. Doodle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moved the Author's Note to here:
> 
> I also have other news. Some of you may know that I also write in the Undertale fandom too. Well, I have news for you.
> 
> I don't know exactly when it will happen BUT I have plans for a project (a project being a multi-chapter story) which is true to the game whilst also being an original idea. Also, evil Gaster with a twist.
> 
> Finally, I also have another planned project. This time in the Gears of War fandom. If anyone remembers Belly Of The Beast, I wrote that but orphaned it after I didn't like the way it was going. So I've changed the storyline a little and I am restarting the story.
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient!

Unloaded from the back of the carriage, five large ink barrels waited patiently to be moved into the storage room of the complex, which just so happened to be right at the back of said building.

"Can' it wai', Joey?"

Came the whine of the janitor, looking like he'd run a sprint already, chest almost heaving just as much. And Wally wasn't ancient, only 32, not 52.

"No, Wally. It _can not._ "

Setting the example, Joey carefully maneuvered a barrel onto its rounded side, proceeding to roll it through Joey Drew Studios to the storage room. Behind him, he noted that Wally solemnly shuffled after him with his own barrel.

All went surprisingly well. Until the last barrel, where Wally _somehow_ opened the cap and sprayed the thick, coal-coloured, viscous liquid all over his employer.

"Aw, shi', Joe-"

"Clean up the mess, Wally. And _do not_ make it worse!"

Storming off to his office, the now smothered man growled dangerously under his breath, cursing Wally with every name under the sun. Now Wally had really done it. The drink Joey could grin and bare (if you don't take into account his table flipping rages over hidden bottles of booze), but his _shirt_ being blasted by ink due to that moronic drunk.

His hand captured the stationary door knob and twisted it left before forcing the door inward to allow him access to the office he had claimed.

His office. Away from Wally Franks. Why did he know Wally? Oh, yeah, he had needed a janitor.

Enough about misbehaving employees, Joey required another, _clean_ shirt with which to exchange this dirty, inky one for. Feeling the ink start to congeal on the clothing against his skin, he hurriedly threw off the sticky fabric and folded it up as neat as he could when the thing was inside out. Now he hoped it didn't stick together and thus make that shirt unusable.

Now _that_ would be the last straw and Wally would be out of his job in less time than it takes to blink.

And then Henry would get on his ass and persuade him to let Wally return. After all - even Joey had to admit - he did do his job and to a decent standard. And Joey doubted Sammy would appreciate another janitor to poke around in his, their, business and try to mess it all up.

Sammy Lawrence...

The music director, the one who annoyed Norman by stealing his projector, the one who seemed to locate every way possible to rile up Joey, but not with anger.

With something Joey hated to admit. And he would never admit it, for Henry also caused this... Thing to grow inside him. Softer, different to the one Sammy enticed out of a previously thought-to-be-dead feeling. But Sammy knew just how to press and prod and twist and pull. He would purposely get up close, a small smirk curving his lips, a light in his eye.

Those moments were a vacuum so powerful not even time could escape, ruining the owner's feeling of authority and rebuilding it with... Something. He had no idea what, didn't want to know what.

But Henry... It was so soft for him it felt so much like silk had blanketed hi-no. No more. Now it was time for him to focus on his current, new idea. Something he hoped would give Henry's artistic talent a good run. And something for Susie to do other than... Well. Something for Susie to do.

\---

Bored. So. Bored.

All of the panels and scenes for the next episode were done and now all Henry had to do was doodle. His hand glided around the page of its own accord, infiltrated by the image floating around inside the head of the animator, though not in the front of his mind. A subconscious thought.

Paying no attention to his freelancing hand proved to be a massive mistake.

Drawn from his trance-like state by the sound of someone dropping a broom - probably Wally - the gentleman took this moment of clarity to check upon the work of his hand. And what he glanced upon shook him to his very core, and brought forth his nightmare from his deep slumber.

Bendy. Someone in a Bendy mask and Wally. Wally Franks, bound, gagged, screaming as a sharpened blade ate through his skin in a clean bite. A circle.

_A pentagram._

An upside down pentagram, etched into his left shoulder.

The man worriedly locked eyes with the paper, face draining and becoming ice cold as he gazed upon the still image of Wally. Of Wally's head, neck and shoulders. Of Wally staring in shock at the mark on his left shoulder, gushing like a popped pimple on a teenager's face.

Of the pentagram Henry had dreamed about.

Oh Lord he was going to be sick.

"Henry?"

Wally inquired as the animator brushed past the ink blotch on the floor the janitor was battling with. A frown creased his features as Henry didn't answer, not knowing Henry _couldn't_ answer. Not without giving Wally another mess to wage war upon.

So instead he unloaded this stomach's cargo into the bushes near the studio, bent over at a near perfect right angle, hoping he'd left those mints in Liquorice. Hell, he'd take a swig of soapy water if he had to. Anything to get rid of the sickly, slightly acidic taste swirling around his taste buds.

If only he could wash his mind as easy as his mouth.


	14. Feeling

Wiping his lips with a handkerchief procured from his back pocket, Henry grimaced at the aftertaste, vainly giving his tongue a swipe too. And now he had fabric to his palate as well. Brilliant. The man didn't right himself for a long time, afraid that any movement upright would result in a spout of vertigo and rile up his already fluttering stomach again.

 _'This is probably a dream... A nightmare...'_ He felt enlightened by that thought; this was just a nightmare and all he needed to do was pinch his arm and it would all be over. And so the shaking man nipped a bit of skin from the thicker part of his arm. And it hurt.

"No..."

Henry shuddered more, forcing himself to stand up straight and half stumble, half run back to his desk. If anyone saw that drawing...

Just dreading anyone finding it had the man pushing forward as fast as he could. Luckily, his desk was untouched by anyone else during his absence and he could hear Wally mopping up the ink puddle bit by bit.

Laying proudly in the centre of his desk like a masterpiece, the drawing seemed to be meeting his gaze. But that couldn't happen for it was only a pencil drawing. Henry snatched it from the desk and scrunched the doodle, literally born from a nightmare, up into as miniscule a ball as he could. Not wanting anyone to rest their gaze upon it and start to believe Henry was becoming as loony as Wally Franks was.

As if just grazing over his name in the animator's mind was a summon, Wally tapped him on his left shoulder and scared the living daylights out of the already frazzled Henry.

"Oh God! Wally! What do you think you are doing scaring me like that? My God."

The older man frowned, wondering what had Henry so worked up.

"Henry, wha's up? Ya okay?"

"I am fine, Wally. Just... do not sneak up on me again, okay?"

"Aight, Henry. I won' sneak up on ya again. Ya mus' have bin in some real deep thought though."

"Yeah, Wally, I was. Just had a little bit of a bad dream, that is all."

Shifting his head up and down, the janitor smiled softly at the younger man before leaving him in peace. As he vacated the little alcove, his face crunched up a little as he wondered _why_ Henry hadn't heard him coming up behind him. And why did he have that scrunched up paper tightly gripped in his left hand as if he was strangling the life of the ink there?

"Wha's goin' on behin' tha scenes?"

Henry slumped down into his wooden chair, hand still clenched around the bane of his life to calm down his racing heart. If he had been a few seconds slower Wally would have seen it and it would all be over. Wally would never trust him again and he doubted Joey Drew would allow him to stay after this.

But something wasn't right here. Why would he dream of something that... grotesque? Was it just the tension from the difficult summoning? Or was there something more sinister going on here at Joey Drew Studios?

No. It was just a nightmare. Henry couldn't be blaming his place of work! That was blasphemy. Wally was getting to him, and that wasn't a good thing.

\---

The day came and ended too soon for Henry. Too soon. He needed more time to think but apparently God believed now was not the time to think. Now was not the time to question himself or this establishment.

Whatever the reason, Henry welcomed the chance to go home with his son and have a break. It was the weekend tomorrow after all. Henry didn't work weekends. Maybe he and Sidney could paint some of those cutouts scattered around the place; they did need finishing after all and the distraction for Sidney would mean Henry could filter his mind, filing away the truth and shredding the lies.

"Hi dad."

Sidney smiled up at his father like the source of innocence. His sandy brown hair was a little ruffled but other than that, he was exactly how Henry remembered from that morning. His little Sidney.

Out of no where, a comb parted the fizzed edges of the boy's hair and weaved them into the correct position with deadly accuracy.

"What happened to your hair, Sidney?"

Oh, Joey. Perfectionist Joey. Of course he'd be the one to attack the unsuspecting child with a grooming utensil and set right his appearance.

Sidney tilted his head up to stare at Joey with his young face.

"I fell asleep, Joey."

"You did? I think you should be getting more sleep at home. Does your dad keep you awake?"

"No Joey. I go to bed at 6, like a big boy."

He smiled, innocent face lighting up. It lit up even more when Bendy came over to give his farewell for the weekend. A white gloved hand clasped the kid on the shoulder and an ever-present smile grew wider as the dancing demon told Sidney he would have a new friend for him to meet, called Boris. Boris the Wolf.

_**"You will like Boris. He is tall and he looks scary but he is a big softy."** _

"I look forward to meeting Boris, Bendy!"

Sidney let loose his smile and dear Henry forgot about his worries.


	15. Weekend Chores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a chronic case of procrastination. Dear God help me.
> 
> 15th August 2018 NOTICE
> 
> MOVING ALL WORKS TO ONE PSEUD (RAAMIsABeast)

* * *

Saturday morning arose with a blinding flash for Henry, Sidney giggling next to the open curtains, clad in his little blue pyjamas before he blocked out the light again.

"Morning dad!"

He smiled widely, jumping up onto the edge of the bed with a little puff of breath. Henry grinned back a little and glanced sideways at the clock. A preliminary glance told him it was nearly 9 o'clock. Weird. Henry didn't usually wake up this late no matter the day, too used to the early start of the studio and school runs during school times.

"Morning Sidney. What time did you wake?"

"About 8, dad. Me and Smudge watched the birds in the garden eat the seeds we put out."

"Have you had some breakfast?"

The child nodded his little head enthusiastically, hair flailing around his head.

"I even made some toast for you."

He smiled and pointed to the plate on his bedside table. Two slices of golden toast were covered with a good helping of strawberry jam and, for a child, Sidney was an amazing toast maker. Sitting up and rubbing some sleep from his eye, Henry smiled at his son again.

"Thank you, Sidney. This looks delicious."

After eating and getting himself and his son dressed in some casual and older clothes, Henry fished around his small but useful shed for the black and white paints he had.

The shed was slightly wider and taller than the car, and all of it had been hand-made. Joey and he had built it nearly a decade ago now and it was still as sturdy as the day they finished it.

Being near the door, the paint was easy to collect and take back into the house and the conservatory. Paint specks patterned the floor and showed that this was Henry's work space for painting. Right now, he was using it to store some Bendy cutouts until he had a moment to paint them.

"Sidney, do you want to help me paint these cutouts?"

The kid bounded into the extension with vigor, smiling and nodding.

"Yes please, dad!"

Chuckling, Henry offered a paint brush to his son and moved the cutouts so that they laid on the floor.

"Don't forget to try and stay in the pencil lines, though it's not the end of the world if you accidently go over them."

Popping open the black paint first, Henry armed himself with his own brush, leaving the tool by a cutout as he walked over to the radio and flicked it on. Quiet music flowed through the room and they started their work in comfortable silence.

\---

Groaning as his head pounded, Wally jumped when a glass bottle slid from his arm to the floor and shattered. Great. Even on his days off he had to clean.

Sitting up too soon, he had to go back to laying after his head swam and dizziness assaulted his sense of balance. Maybe Wally could go back to sleep... Just for a few minutes.

Barking from next door ruined that plan, each harsh sound attacking Wally's head and sending pulses of pain across his skull. He stuffed his head between his pillows, sighing in relief when the sound was muffled enough to only be the nuisance a dog barking in the morning was.

Once silence came back, the man stuck his head out from his little fort and decided to get out of bed.

Bad idea but the aspirin was downstairs and that was his magical cure to a hangover. Basically stumbling through his house to the kitchen, Wally filled up a glass and shoved two aspirins into his mouth before draining all of the water from his glass.

Now he just had to wait for them to kick in. Shouldn't be too long. Half an hour, maybe. In the meantime, he thought sluggishly about what he should eat for breakfast, settling on a simple egg and toast.

Flicking on the gas and using a spark to light it, Wally cracked some eggs into a wok and left them to sizzle away. His toast came out more brown than gold but at least it wasn't black. A sliver of butter hugged one side of the toast before the eggs slid from the wok onto the plate. There. Something to eat.

Once breakfast was over and done with, Wally left the empty plate in his sink and ambled back upstairs, stripping off yesterday's night clothes and donning some fresh clothes. He felt a bump on his shoulder as he smoothed it down and frowned, walking to his bathroom and taking his shirt off to have a look.

Wally gasped, backing away from the mirror above the sink, clutching his shoulder and shaking.

What? How?

He had to go to Henry.

\---

Getting a call from Wally early in the afternoon was unexpected. At first, Sidney had pointed out the phone bleating but Henry didn't want to spoil their afternoon and ignored it. After the third time, he had a feeling it was something important and anxiously answered the phone.

"Oh god Henry! We need to talk, got _somethin_ ' freaky on my _shoulder_. I'm on my way."

"Woah, Wally. Calm down. What's happened?"

"I've got _somethin_ ' on my shoulder. It wasn' there yesterday. Oh God oh God oh God."

Tensing, Henry's mind shoved that dreadful sketch to the forefront of his mind, spooking him a little. But he had to know for sure.

"Alright. I'm coming to you."


	16. Leave Town, Wally

After leaving the house phone on its hook, Henry slowly walked back into the room where his son sat painting a cut out. He was using the black paint right now, paying attention to where the pencil lines were and not going over them. For a seven year old, Sidney was really good with a paint brush.

Even with his stomach churning and tumbling around inside his body, Henry felt a little smile slip onto his face.

"That's looking really good, Sidney. Well done."

Sidney stopped to turn around, grinning at his father happily.

"Thank you, dad. Wait... Why are you getting your jacket?"

"Its nothing. Wally just called for me to help him with finding his keys. He says they're in his kitchen somewhere but wants my sharp eyes to help."

This seemed to settle the kid, who smiled almost proudly, nodding.

"Ok, dad."

\---

Taking a scour to his shoulder and _scraping_ his skin off suddenly seemed like a really bad idea. Blood welled up from the multitude of furrows in Wally's skin and some confident beads had already gained enough ego to start their trek downwards. But even through the crimson liquid, the inky black lines glared right back at him through the mirror.

His peeled skin stung him mercilessly, as if in retribution for trying to remove the unsettling tattoo from his shoulder. If only Wally knew what to do. He hoped Henry knew what to do.

Around one stressful half an hour later, Wally was throwing open the door to rapidly usher Henry inside. By then, he had slipped on a shirt to cover the tattoo in case someone else randomly popped in before Henry could arrive.

"Oh god, Henry, so glad ya here. Can y' get rid of this thin'?"

"Easy, Wally. Calm down a minute and let me see before we both get too worked up to even think about what happened."

Henry sounded way too calm for Wally's liking, but his older age meant that even he could hear the edge in Henry's tone. Did he know something Wally didn't? Or was he even more unsettled by this than Wally was?

Suddenly feeling a wave of unneeded selfconsciousness, Wally hesitated before slipping the shirt over his head. To his utter surprise, all of the colour drained from the younger man's face and he had to turn away. Wally thought he heard a mutter of "Oh god no".

"Henry?"

Unsettled by the reaction, Wally covered the tattoo with his hand, shivering as a spike of unease slid down his back. For around a minute, the only sound was of their breathing.

"Wally, I... I'm not sure what to do about that... Just... be careful."

Henry was looking at him again, a dark shadow, a secret, hidden in his eye, and he was _concerned_. There was definately something wrong, and for once in his life Wally couldn't attribute it to drinking too much.

"Wha' is wron', Henry?"

"Get out of town, Wally. Run. There's something really big going on and I think you've been marked for something."

"Get outta town?"

"Yes!"

Henry looked distressed, hands clenching beside him, face pale and ghost-like. But, leave town? Maybe Henry was a bit too freaked out by this... thing.

"Henry, I can't just skip town. If somethin' else happens, I'll go."

At least that seemed to put the younger man at some sort of ease.

"You promise, Wally?"

"Yea'."

\---

Joey sighed and readjusted his collar as he waited for an answer to Henry's door. His car was not there, but some of the lights were on so Sidney had to be in.

Sure enough, a few more knocks and the lad was swinging the door towards him. A smile plastered on his face, a face covered with little dots of black and white paint. His hands were worse, Joey noted.

"Where has your dad gone, Sidney?"

"My dad has gone to go and help Wally. He said he would be back soon. Come in, if you have time?"

Sidney moved to the side, letting Joey in. Joey didn't trust the child to make him a coffee, the kettle too far for him to reach, and so made himself one while Sidney washed his dirty hands and face upstairs. A change of clothes too, hopefully.

Once the boy was back downstairs (with clothes not splattered with paint), he told the man about his day, painting Bendy cutouts with his dad before his dad had to help Wally. There had only been five of them, which Sidney had helped to finish off, settling them in the sunny part of the room to dry.

"And what about you, Joey?"

"Paperwork. What else?"

"Why do you work on weekends?"

"There are never enough hours in the week."

That was a total lie. Joey had spent most of his morning waiting for Sammy to finish working on some music to talk to him. What they had talked about doesn't matter, but once again Joey Drew felt as though Sammy held information he didn't, imparting half truths or full lies to keep the owner in the dark.

Ever since Bendy had- No. Not here, while Sidney was watching. And it wasn't worth his anger over.

"Dad is back."

Sidney giggled, listening to the sound of an engine stuttering to a stop outside the house. Henry stepped into his own house, pale as a sheet and shaken by something. Even the child could tell something was wrong.

"Dad, what is it?"

"Can you go upstairs, Sidney? Please."

"Okay, Dad. Are you ill?"

"Just tired."

Sidney nodded and slowly disappeared upstairs, glancing at his father, worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, as some say.


End file.
